Lightning
by OblinaJayne
Summary: Hermione sits alone, contemplating the years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Her night of solitude and despair is turned around by the most unlikely of souls. Kept as close to canon as possible. Rated M for a reason; language and content warning.
1. -

Lightning illuminated the not-so-distant sky. Thunder rumbled, growing ever closer. The air was thick with the promise of yet another summer storm. Hermione Granger sat tucked into a plush sofa in a dark corner of a large terrace, overlooking the street below her. Cradling a fresh scotch on the rocks, she peered down at the bustling street below. Smooth yet sombre music drifted through the air of Hermione's newest haunt; a quaint Retro-chic whiskey lounge in West End. No, not London's West End, but the contemporary culture centre of Brisbane, Queensland. Australia.

It had been five crazy, messy years since Hermione had assisted her dear friend, Harry Potter, to overthrow Lord Voldemort and his reign of terror. The repercussions of this devastating time were still yet to cease entirely; both in the local European Wizarding community, but also the global Wizarding world. So much so, Hermione had only two weeks ago made the emotionally draining pilgrimage to reunite herself with her magically estranged parents.

The level of magical skill this incredible witch was capable of, both then and now, astounded even Hermione herself. The intricate web of lies and false truth was flawless. Some was based in reality; upon receiving her letter from Hogwarts, Hermione's mother had placed an indefinite hiatus on an opportunity to undertake a PhD a close friend from Dentistry School had told her about at a University in Australia. Hermione also drew inspiration from the fact that, in his spare time, Hermione's father was a keen hiker and had always been fascinated by the diversity of Australian landscapes.

Hermione sipped her drink, sinking into her seat; the familiar wave of guilt washed over her as she thought of the monster she had created to replace her parents' memories of their daughter. For over five years her parents had lived under remodelled identities and believed that their brilliant daughter had, in fact, been an abuse, drug addicted runaway who had died on the streets at sixteen. Knowing how strongly her parents felt about their one and only child, conceived after years of miscarriages and medical intervention, it broke Hermione's heart to turn their worst fears into a painful false reality.

A gust of warm wind whipped up the fronds of nearby palm trees as the storm grew closer yet. In her mini sanctuary, the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood on end as the wind made her plum, lace backed, summer dress feel as though it was made of nothing at all. She let her luscious golden brown curls fall from the bun in which they had been ensnared. Brushing away a few stray locks, Hermione threw back the rest of her drink before gesturing to a nearby waiter that she was ready for another.

As she waited for a refill, the witch reminisced over the last few weeks. Explaining everything, and so many things multiple times, to her distraught parents was tiresome. Hence the need for escape. Thankfully, once memories were restored with wrongs righted and fake truth retwisted back to reality, Hermione was making progress. She was slowly rebuilding the trust of her parents and there were less doors being slammed in her face. But there were still so many questions, so many magical habits for them to reacclimatise to. One particular piece of news did not sit well with her father; her engagement to Ron Weasley. Until Hermione had restored the memories of the Drs Granger, her parents had no memory of meeting this man who intended to marry their only daughter.

The diamond on Hermione's finger glinted in the dull light but suddenly felt as though it weighed a pound. She fiddled with it as she thought of Ron all the way back in England. Whilst she loved him dearly, things had not been easy for them. It did not help that the first proposal had come from a very drunken Ron in a state of delirium following the wake of his fallen brother Fred. It was a reflection on what Hermione had been dealing with since Voldemort's defeat. Ron had PTSD. He was very hard to be around at times. A lot of the time. But Hermione stuck by his side. She was his rock. The sincere and sober proposal was two years ago after celebrating a recent promotion within the Ministry for Hermione, and the conclusion of a drawn out case for Ron.

Hermione was thankful that Ron still had his romantic side, and that he was able to stop moping about with George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes long enough to achieve his goal of joining Harry in the Auror Office. He was making great progress with his own self and his relationship with Hermione had less extreme lows since he was seeing much more of Harry. But it was also draining for him, and the two lovers did not get to see much of each other. Ron was desperate to make things official now that he was able to see the good in the world once more. But Hermione was nervous. She had quickly exhausted all the small excuses to postpone even organising a wedding. Money was not an issue for the couple as they were both receiving a comfortable income. So Hermione had been leaning heavily on the situation with her parents for more breathing room. This caused Ron immense frustration, as he knew full well that Hermione everything she could have needed at her disposal to undo what she had created.

So here Hermione sat with the memories and emotions of the last few years resting like a lead weight on her shoulders. Again her body tingled in the warm breeze as it swept away the cool air from the air-conditioned bar. She checked her new blackberry to see if Ron had replied to her last message. The latest challenge she had set for him; partly in payback for sending her to make contact with her parents, was to insist that he start using the mobile phone she had purchased for him a year ago. He had mastered _some_ things on the computer she set up in their flat, but he had refused point blank to deal with the modest, easy to use mobile telephone. It was all a bit much for him apparently. She had reasoned that her parents were presently unaware of the magical world and she did not feel it would be wise to ask to borrow their fireplace and not a telephone so that she may communicate with her fiancé.

A pixelated image of Crookshanks stared back at Hermione, but no blue envelopes heralding new messages. Hermione sighed and put the phone back in her clutch. It was mid-morning in London; Ron would be at work, sans mobile device most likely. She hoped he had remembered to charge it.

"Another drink Miss Granger?" drawled an oddly familiar voice.

Hermione may have had a few tipples so far this evening, but she still had her wits about her. Her eyes widened as recognition set in. She barely had time to catch her startled breath before the pale, silver-blond haired man sat down across from her.

"M-Malfoy?! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Draco Malfoy chuckled darkly. "My, my. What a colourful vocabulary you have developed over the years, Miss Granger. I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, clearly, I am enjoying a fine Muggle scotch, something I would not expect you to know or care much for." Hermione leaned back, folding her arms across her chest as he made himself comfortable in the armchair closest to her.

He sniffed the glass in his hand before handing it to her. "Hmmm, smells like an 18 year old Single Malt to me."

The gobsmacked witch stared at him in both shock and awe.

One of the bar staff brought over yet another tumbler with a double whiskey and ice. "Ah, thank you kind sir. Please ensure that our glasses do not go thirsty. Just add it onto my tab. Much appreciated."

"Shall do Mr Mathieu, enjoy your night mate." The waiter added a wink as he sauntered away from their secluded table.

Hermione did a double take. "Why did that man refer to you as 'Mr Mathieu'? Is this some sick joke? You have jinxed this whole bar!" she demanded, wide eyed in the early stages of panic.

Draco took a sip of his drink. "A fine choice Miss Granger. This is no joke, but more of a Casablanca-esque coincidence. 'Of all the whiskey joints, in all the towns, in all the world, you have stumbled into mine.'" A sly smile worked its way onto his lips.

"How? What? Who are you and what have you done with the real Draco Malfoy?" Hermione was utterly perplexed by the former Pure Blooded prince of prejudice. She raised her left hand to her temple.

Draco chuckled sincerely. "So many questions Miss Granger, or should I say, soon-to-be Ms Weasley?" He gestured to the ring on her raised hand.

She quickly lowered her hand and stiffened. "Ah, yes. Well, we don't have a set date. But yes, Ron and I are engaged."

"And where is your doting fiancé tonight?" Draco leaned towards Hermione, resting his chin on his fist, staring intensely at her as she squirmed at the question.

"He's at home. In the UK. I came here without him." She broke the stare to take a long swallow of her scotch.

"Interesting. And what does he think of this arrangement?" Watching her squirm was rather entertaining for Draco.

"If you _must_ know, it was his idea for me to come here," she thrust her chin out in defiance. "Without him."

The wind picked up yet again, followed a low rumble of thunder which was more felt than heard. Draco continued to stare at Hermione with coy smirk in place. She continued to glare at him with mistrust. She let out a sigh as she asked him what he was doing here in Australia, so far from his home territory. His reply was not what she was expecting.

"I'm on study exchange for the year. At one of the Muggle Universities in the city." He replied nonchalance turned bemusement as he watched the stunned witch's jaw drop.

As it happened, Draco had spent the better part of the time since Voldemort's defeat rethinking all that was forced into his mind since birth. Soul searching and contemplation of the trauma he had witnessed, inflicted and experienced because of old wizarding world ideology had lead him down some very dark paths. His father was currently at St Mungo's receiving much needed therapy for Dark Lord induced schizophrenia. His mother was a strong front of resolve, focusing all of her energy on cleansing the entire Malfoy Manor of any evidence of the atrocities that were committed within its grounds. Draco could no longer take the nightmares and growing loneliness.

He needed to do something to alleviate the guilt he carried with him, something to take his mind away from the past. He toyed with the idea of studying healing through St Mungo's. Based in London, being in the thick of both Muggle and Wizarding worlds, Draco had covertly attended occasional lectures at the City University. By far his favourite subjects he had stumbled upon were psychology and anthropology. With what he had seen of St Mungo's and the healers dealing with his father, Draco felt his calling. He enrolled into CU London under the pseudonym of Daniel Mathieu, a legitimate Muggle identity the Ministry had created for him.

But London soon became stifling. Everywhere he went within the Magical World he was met with judgement or fear. Those willing to forgive were few and far between, and those who had been on his side were either dead, in prison or reminded him of a past he was repenting. So when he discovered the opportunity to study abroad, he leaped at the chance for change.

He was currently staying with a once estranged Aunt whom Narcissa had contacted her regarding her brother Lucius' deteriorating mental state. She was the white sheep of the current Malfoy generation; a blood traitor who had married a Muggle born Australian Wizard and relocated with him to his home city as soon as she had graduated from Hogwarts. He was the Muggle Studies professor at the Quop Wirrin School of Magic and she headed the Astronomy department. Draco had never met this Aunt before, but felt instantly at ease in her presence. She was warm, welcoming and very un-Malfoy. Nephew and aunt kept in contact after she had fulfilled her sisterly duties in England, and was more than happy to host Draco during his exchange. After all, the teaching commitments often left their Brisbane home empty for days to weeks on end.

"I don't know if I can take this seriously. I know people can change Malfoy, but do you really expect me to believe this story?" quipped Hermione.

Draco's wintery eyes flashed with hurt for an instant. But he could understand her disbelief and doubt. He had treated her deplorably in the past. He was growing accustomed to these reactions from fellow magical folk, despite his best efforts. After all he had a lasting brand in his left arm to remind himself and others of what he had once stood for. He shifted in his seat, secretly thanking himself for adding the unbuttoned black dress shirt to his charcoal grey chinos and white V-necked tee ensemble.

Hermione noticed the brief pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry Draco. What happened five years ago has had a huge impact on most of our world. I-" she was lost for words. She watched him fidget with his left sleeve of his shirt and run his hand through his tousled ear length white-blond locks. She suddenly noticed the lack of music in the bar and the low murmur of an expectant crowd.

On the other side of the bar, on the small stage that Hermione had not even noticed, was a 5-piece band of dapper young men who began to vamp around on their instruments. Hermione looked over at a more relaxed Draco, his grey eyes glinting with a sudden resolve.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, grabbing her hand and directing her towards the dancefloor, paying no mind to her lack of reply. He placed his right hand on the small of her back, just above the line of indecency and with his free hand swooped up hers. Before she could protest, Draco skilfully led her around the floor in a classic swing style. He chuckled softly as the unease in her warm, chocolate eyes melted into genuine enjoyment.

As the music picked up, Draco became grew bolder. Soon Hermione was being expertly spun here, there and everywhere. The young witch could not remember the last time she had felt this light hearted. She stared at Draco's relaxed smile and realised that she had never seen Draco at ease like this before.

The band died down after reaching a brief fever pitch. Now stationary, Hermione and Draco stood amongst the hushed crowd. Together they watched as a curvaceous woman looking like a gothic Jessica Rabbit sauntered onto stage. The band soon fell into a sultry rhythm as the woman provided delicious husky vocals to a Dusty Springfield styled cover of _Spooky._

Before Hermione had a chance to retreat, Draco pulled her close, guiding her once more, this time in a relaxed Rumba. The pair swept between the other couples, dancing as though they had the floor to themselves. Draco could not help but admire the woman in his arms. He looked with longing as she smiled sweetly back at him. Never, not even his wildest dreams, had he ever imagined that he would be dancing with Hermione Granger. Seeing this side of her, something other than her buried in study or helping save the wizarding world from destruction, was enthralling. He could not get enough.

Hermione was slipping. Slipping into a dreamy lull brought on by Draco's soft hands and firm body as he brought her closer to him with each twirl. Each time he caught her she could feel more heat, more electricity. This was nothing like she had ever felt before, not even with Ron. She was lost to the rhythm and Draco's alluring gaze. She sighed inaudibly as he twirled her, twirled her in and caught her in a low dip.

A loud crack of thunder followed instantly by a brilliant white sky of lightning brought with it a momentary loss of electricity. Draco had not even noticed that the rain had long passed a drizzle, now falling hard and fast.

In the silence before the power flickered back on, Draco bent down as he whispered in a smoky voice "would you like to take this dance somewhere more private?"

Hermione nodded, lips slightly parted. He lifted her onto her feet once more before they made their way to the exit. Half way down the stairs, Draco cornered Hermione into a dark alcove.

"Are you ready?" He asked huskily, leaning closer as he brushed a thumb across her cheek, the other hand caressing her hip. Hermione entwined her arm in his. With a small pop, the world spun around Draco and Hermione, but their eyes remained locked together.

As suddenly as it began, the spinning ceased. The pair had apparated to Draco's new abode. They had landed on the lower floor of his Aunt and Uncle's house, which appeared to be a separate guest house. It in itself was a beautiful apartment, with marble surfaces, polished wood floors and a glorious amount of windows looking out to the balcony. Hermione instinctively walked towards the panes of glass. The storm was ravaging the city down below, allowing them a fantastic show from their mountain side retreat.

"Draco, this house is magnificent!" She exclaimed, perching on a nearby forest green chesterfield.

"My Aunt and Uncle built it within a reserve his family established way back. The design is very eco friendly, having magical facilities does help reduce the amount of muggle utilities required. He also cares for a large native Billywig population. I guess you could call them conservationists…" Draco explained busied himself at the stately record player before pouring them both more scotch.

Draco sat the two tumblers on the small table in front of Hermione, offering his hand to her as the music started. She refuelled her buzz serving also to drown out the guilty conscious screaming at her to leave. She needed this. Veraciousness, be damned, it's just a dance after all.

The way Draco held her told a much different story. Once again Hermione was gliding around, being spun and dipped effortlessly. But this time Draco was not allowing as much space between them. Draco's steps were more passionate, his pupils wider than expected even in the dim light of a half lit chandelier, his touch barely concealing brewing desires for the sumptuous witch. Hermione closed her eyes as he caught her in one arm, her breathing short and fast. She opened her eyes, back still arched over Draco's outstretched arm, reached up to smooth a few stray bangs back to join the rest of his thick platinum waves.

Staring up at the suave genteel wizard above her, she placed the slightest amount of pressure on the base of his head. Their lips met for the first time. He hesitated at first, extremely aware that she was betrothed to his not so distant cousin. However the way she had behaved earlier hinted that things were headed towards a not-so-happy matrimony.

Why not show her what she could have instead?

Hermione hooked her outside leg around Draco's waist. He broke the kiss, only so that he could pull her petite frame upright, allowing her free leg to join its twin. She wasted no time grabbing fistfuls of his satiny locks, pulling his face closer, tongue deeper into her sweet, whiskey flavoured mouth. She was addicted. This was all she never knew she wanted.

Draco's hands were exploring the delicious curves of the witch he once mocked. His hands made their way under her hem, relishing in the minimal amount of lace that covered her taut behind. Hermione unwound her legs, letting out a gasp as she felt what was lurking beneath Draco's trousers. Biting her lip, Hermione grabbed Draco by the lapels, leading to what she assumed was the bedroom.

Stunned by this sudden role change, he followed her as she correctly directed him towards his bedroom. She did not release him until she was facing him, his back towards his bed. She kissed his neck, working her way up to his ear, her hands travelling over the hard planes of his supple chest. His dress shirt fell to the floor, forgotten. "You may take the lead when dancing, but this, Mr Malfoy, is where I take over," she growled into his ear, pushing him onto the four-poster bed.

Hermione climbed on top of her frozen prey, enjoying the view as his emotions swirled between confusion, surprise and delirious arousal. She had never felt this alive. His hands twitched beneath her, aching to touch her again.

"Undress me," she instructed. He wasted no time in obeying. He sat up, Hermione still straddling him, slowly lifting her dress firstly over her creamy thighs, then higher, revealing her smooth, flat stomach. He growled with appreciation, wanting to see more. She languidly raised her arms, allowing him to finally discover her further. The sight of Hermione in nothing more that exquisitely diminutive black lace bra and panties. It did not take much for Hermione to shove him onto his back once more.

Extracting herself from his lap, Hermione walked over to her clutch she had abandoned by his bedroom door. She strutted back to his bed, wand in hand. His eyes widened with possibility. Hermione stood before him, legs slightly parted, as she twiddled with her wand, allowing sparks of silver and gold magic to crackle over her fingers. A determined look settled on her face as she conjured a scarlet and gold silk neck tie. Holding it taught between two hands, Hermione resumed her previous position on the bed. She bent down, starting at his pant line, she traversed his torso with a mixture of kisses and light nips at his skin. Reaching forward, her mouth still working its magic at the crook of Draco's neck, she stretched Draco's hands high above his head. He felt something cool wind its way between his wrists as the recently fabricated tie bound them together. He let slip a deep moan.

Hermione sat up once more, running her hands from his chest, along her thighs, settling on her modest breasts. Positioning herself against the tent in Draco's chinos, she began to cup her bosom, teasing her own nipples.

"Fuck Hermione!" Draco snarled, wrestling with his restraints causing them to instantly grow too heavy for him to budge. Hermione's back arched, causing her pelvis to grind against his erection, as she watched the muscles in his arms work against the enchanted silk fetters.

With her quarry sufficiently restrained, Hermione extricated herself once more. Draco's pants quickly reunited with his long forgotten shirts. She summoned the tie from Draco's wrists, only to place it around his neck once he sat up again. She used it, leash style, to pull him to his feet. His hands took charge of the role hers had left vacant, teasing her pert nipples through the insubstantial fabric that still bound them. He needed more, reaching around to her back, he released Hermione's unpretentiously beautiful breasts from their lace prison. He bent his mouth to place a rosy bud of erogenous flesh into his mouth. He rolled her nipple in his mouth, resulting in some delicious throaty responses from Hermione, which grew louder once he added teeth.

"Pants," Hermione panted. Draco obliged, slipping out of his boxers. Hermione's breath hitched as she took in the sight of him. All of him.

Draco bent forward, catching Hermione's full lips in his. He slithered his hands down the sides of her body, coming to a halt at the top of her nearly non-existent thong. He met no resistance from Hermione who was once again pulling pleasurably at the hair at the back of his head. They too soon were abandoned onto the black wood below.

Using the platinum strands, Hermione walked Draco back towards the bed again. She left him standing this time, instead placing one foot on the bed, giving Draco a marvellous view in the process, followed by the other. He watched this delicious display, slightly perplexed at what she was doing. Facing him as he turned towards the bed, Hermione lifted herself using the bedframe overhead. She deftly wrapped her legs around Draco's neck, drawing him into her. He liked where this was going. Ever obedient to such a wanton influence, he placed his mouth right over her, blowing hot air over her. A muffled moan met his efforts. He slowly drew his tongue from the centre of her sex, finally gliding over her clit. Hermione's legs tightened around him, pushing his tongue closer, deeper.

Cupping her glorious waist, he continued his assignment, swapping between up, down, circles, fast and slow. Hermione's moans signalled that she was close. But before he could push her over that line, her vice-like legs released him as she abdicated her perch.

She sashayed down from the bed, to stand in front of Draco once more. Using the long forgotten tie, Hermione pulled Draco onto the bed, this time allowing him on top.

"I want you inside me," she crooned breathlessly.

"As you wish, Miss Granger," his reply was just as breathless as her decree. And so he followed orders, making Hermione squirm with pleasure as he filled her. He fucked her. He fucked her so hard that he was sure the entirety of Brisbane would have heard her cries of pleasure if it were not for the myriad of enchantments surrounding the estate.

"Fuck, oh! Draco! FUCK," Hermione cried as she climbed higher towards orgasm. Without breaking connection, Draco stood, once again wearing Hermione like an erotic garment, and leant her against the nearby wall. She whimpered at the momentary loss of thrust, but he soon reinstated a fevered rhythm. She responded by dragging her nails along the strong shoulders she was grasping onto, leaving red linear welts along his porcelain coloured skin.

"Deeper Draco," she demanded. He knew how to deliver, as he traipsed back to the bed, laying himself down with Hermione straddling him once more. She rode him hard. Rocking her hips, pumping, taking them both to an explosive finale.

Hermione collapsed beside Draco, heavy eyes watching as he tousled his hair, shaking his head.

"Hermione Fucking Granger. Good Gods woman, you are incredible." Draco remarked as he brushed another stray lock of glorious curls from her face.

Some hours later, Draco awoke to the harsh light of day, an empty bed and a handwritten note.

 _Draco,_

 _I am sorry but I had to go._

 _Last night will stay with me forever, as for you I hope._

 _But that is as far as it can go. I am marrying Ron._

 _The man, the wizard, you have become is commendable._

 _All the best,_

 _x_


	2. Addendum

**A/N:** Hellllloooooo!

Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited this!

I have been mulling around with ideas for a sequel for this one-shot pretty much since I posted it; and now I am posting it :)

It can be found here:

s/11993148/1/After-the-Storm

I would love if you checked it out and let me know what you think.

Happy Fan-Fiction-ing...


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